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Monday, March 17, 2025

Join us for an in-person class: “(Not so) Extreme Creative Writing” or “Writing Personal Stories & Other Nonfiction”

“(Not so) Extreme Creative Writing”

 ~ For more experienced writers 

In-person: Thursday afternoons, 12:30 – 3:00 p.m.
Classes: March 27 – June 5 (or to June 19 if the course fills up. No class April 24, May 8 or June 12).
Burlington Anglican Lutheran Church, 3455 Lakeshore Rd, Burlington, Ontario (Map 
here)

Note: “Intensive Creative Writing” courses and an “Intensive Picture Book” course are offered online. See all upcoming weekly writing courses here.

Extreme Creative Writing isn't like an extreme sport – it doesn't demand something crazy – but it is meant for writers who have been writing for a while or who have done a course or two before and are working on their own projects. You’ll be asked to bring in a few pieces of your writing for detailed feedback, including a couple longish pieces. All your pieces may be from the same work, such as a novel in progress, or they may be stand-alone pieces, such as essays, picture book manuscripts, or short stories. You bring whatever you want to work on. 

Besides critiquing pieces, we’ll have discussions on topics of interest to the class. In addition to learning how to critique your own work and receiving constructive suggestions about your writing, you’ll discover that the greatest benefits come from seeing how your classmates approach and critique a piece of writing and how they write and re-write. This is a challenging course, but extremely rewarding.

Fee: $292.04 + hst = $330

To reserve your spot, email: brianhenry@sympatico.ca

“Writing Personal Stories & Other Nonfiction”

In person: Thursday evenings, 7 – 9 p.m.
April 3 – May 29 (or going to June 5 if the course fills up. No class April 24 or May 8)
Burlington Anglican Lutheran Church, 3455 Lakeshore Rd, Burlington, Ontario (Map 
here)

Note: “Writing Personal Stories” is also offered online. See all upcoming weekly writing courses here.

If you want to write any kind of true story, this course is for you. Personal stories will be front and centre – we’ll look at memoirs, travel writing, personal essays, family history – but we’ll also look at writing feature articles, creative nonfiction and other more informational writing. Plus, of course, we’ll work on creativity and writing technique and have fun doing it. 

Whether you want to write a book or just get your thoughts down on paper, this weekly course will get you going. We'll reveal the tricks and conventions of telling true stories, and we’ll show you how to use the techniques of the novel to recount actual events. Weekly writing exercises and friendly feedback from the instructor will help you move forward on this writing adventure. Whether you want to write for your family and friends or for a wider public, don't miss this course.

We’ll also have a published author as a guest speaker.

Fee: $220.35 plus 13% hst = $259

To reserve your spot, email: brianhenry@sympatico.ca

Instructor Brian Henry has been a book editor and creative writing instructor for more than 25 years. He publishes Quick Brown Fox, Canada's most popular blog for writers, teaches creative writing at Ryerson University and has led workshops everywhere from Boston to Buffalo and from Sarnia to Saint John. But his proudest boast is that he’s has helped many of his students get published.  

Read reviews and other pieces about Brian's various courses and workshops here (and scroll down).

See all of Brian’s upcoming weekly writing classes, one-day workshops, and weekend retreats here.

Mark Baker has a new novel out: The Wrecker's Daughter

Hi, Brian.

This is to let you know that my new historical novel, 
The Wrecker's Daughter, has just been released.

Here's the blurb:

Welcome to St. Rose, Cornwall, where the merry villagers make their living by wrecking ships and stealing their cargoes, where weddings are interrupted to loot shipwrecked schooners, where the parson is in the wrecker's pay and preaches a wrecker's gospel and Christmas is celebrated with fist fights and pistol shots.

Meet Hannah Pendarves, first daughter of the village, who thinks anyone from as far away as the next town is a foreigner and not to be trusted. But Hannah's small world cracks open when she discovers that her father is part of a vast syndicate of wreckers and smugglers.

When the syndicate places Hannah as a spy in the house of Francis Keverne, a kindly and upright Falmouth shipping agent, Hannah begins to question the wrecker's gospel and regret the blood that is on her hands. Now the wrecker's daughter must choose between her father and Francis while with every step she feels the devil, and the syndicate, snapping at her heels.

Kirkus calls it “A darkly immersive coming-of-age story set on the hazardous coast of Cornwall” and gives it a good review here.

Thanks for all your help over the years.

Mark

--
G. M. (Mark) Baker

https://gmbaker.net

The Wrecker's Daughteris available here.


See more books from your fellow authors here (and scroll down), and see where they’re getting their short pieces published here (and scroll down).

See all my upcoming weekly writing classes, one-day workshops, and four-day retreats here~Brian

 

Sunday, March 16, 2025

Still spots open in “Writing Picture Books (and other little kid lit) – Intensive”

“Writing Picture Books – Intensive”

Online: Wednesdays, 6:30 – 9:00 p.m.
First readings emailed March 19.
Classes: March 26 – June 4 (or to June 18 if the course fills up. No class April 23 or June 11)

Note: See all the writing classes on offer this spring here.

This Intensive course will be organized like my other Intensive courses, but it’s for people writing picture books – though if you want to bring board books, early chapter books, a nonfiction proposal, or some other form of kid lit, we’re very easygoing. You’ll be asked to bring in several pieces of your writing for detailed feedback. This may be several separate picture book manuscripts or, possibly, just one, reworked several times. You bring whatever you want to work on. 

Besides critiquing pieces, we’ll have discussions and I’ll give short talks addressing the needs of the group. You’ll receive constructive suggestions about your writing, learn how to critique your own work, ands you’ll discover that the greatest benefits come from seeing how your classmates approach and critique a piece of writing and how they write and re-write.

I expect you’ll find this course extremely rewarding – and fun. After all, we’re working on picture books!

Fee: $292.04 + hst = $330

To reserve your spot, email: brianhenry@sympatico.ca

Instructor Brian Henry has been a book editor and creative writing instructor for more than 25 years. He publishes Quick Brown Fox, Canada's most popular blog for writers, taught creative writing at Ryerson University (now called Toronto Metropolitan University) and has led workshops everywhere from Boston to Buffalo and from Sarnia to Saint John. He’s also the author of a children’s version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. But his proudest boast is that he’s has helped many of his students get published. 

Read pieces about ~ or inspired by ~ Brian's retreats, courses and workshops here (and scroll down).

See all of Brian’s upcoming weekly writing classes, one-day workshops, and four-day retreats here.

To receive new postings on Quick Brown Fox as soon as they go up, visit Quick Brown Fox on Substack, and subscribe: https://brian999.substack.com/ 

Friday, March 14, 2025

Kudos to Emily, Janine, and Marg!

Note: If you’ve had a story (or a book!) published, if you’ve won or placed in a writing contest, if you’ve gotten yourself an agent, or if you have any other news, send me an email so I can share your success. As writers, we’re all in this together, and your good news gives us all a boost. 

Also, be sure to let know if you're looking for a writers' group or beta readers; a notice in Quick Brown Fox, will help you find them. 

Email me at: brianhenry@sympatico.ca

 

Hi, Brian.

I wanted to let you know the good news. My short story “She’s Sixteen” has been accepted for publication by the UK blog Inspire the Mind. This was one of the stories you read over when I was taking one of your classes. Thanks again for your help.

Regards,
Emily R. Zarevich

Read Emily’s story “She’s Sixteen” here.

For information on upcoming weekly creative writing classes, see here.

  

Hi, Brian.

Excited to share that my 101 Word Story: “Indelible” was published on February 2, 2025.

All the best,

Janine Elias Joukema

Read Janine’s story, Indelible” here.

For information on submitting to 101 Words and a couple other great places send your short work, see here

 

Hi, Brian.

the short story I wrote after the Briars retreat has been published in CommuterLit.  Thanks for suggesting I submit it there!

Marg Heidebrecht

Marg’s story “Roasting” has also now been published on Quick Brown Fox. Read it here.

For information on submitting to CommuterLit (and a few other interesting places) see here.

For information our June writing retreat at Arowhon Pines Resort in Algonquin Park, see here. For information on the September retreat, see here.

 

See all my upcoming weekly writing classes, one-day workshops, and four-day  retreats here. ~Brian

See where your fellow writers are getting short pieces published here (and scroll down).

Note: You can get new postings on Quick Brown Fox delivered straight to your Inbox as I publish them. Subscribe to Quick Brown Fox on Substack here: https://brian999.substack.com/

Thursday, March 13, 2025

“The Artillery Ball,” by Norma Gardner

I came home from university in early November to attend the Artillery Ball, an annual black-tie event, hosted by the 49th Field Regiment, of which my boyfriend Rob was not only a member, but a kilt-wearing one. He was a drummer in their pipe band and they were performing at the ball, a military event that honoured those who served.

Rob seemed comfortable in his skin, fit in with any crowd, and apart from the kilt-wearing thing, had a normal Canadian family – all things that didn’t describe me. My parents immigrated from Italy before I was born and my upbringing was coloured with traditional food and language and was tethered to customs from an ocean away. I was often an unwilling participant and resented the way my culture made me different.

With reverence in his voice, Rob described the formality of the event, ripe with military fanfare and Scottish regalia, mentioning he’d be in full highland dress. I didn’t know what any of this meant and was only focused on my dress, a beautiful ivory gown, with a full-length pleated skirt, adorned with a satin ribbon at the waist.

His full reveal came when he arrived at my parents’ house. While I was looking forward to seeing his shapely legs in a kilt, the star attraction was his bright red tunic, with silver braid, shiny buttons, and epaulettes.

Completing the look were his diced red and black hose, white spats buttoned at the side over black shoes, and a drummer’s plaid – a large fringed tartan shawl, tied at the waist under his tunic, and pinned under the left epaulette. I felt like a princess about to be swept away by my prince.

Even my Italian Catholic mother, who wasn’t thrilled I was dating a fair-haired Canadian Protestant boy, was quite taken with his ensemble and in her broken English, gifted him with, “You look very nice.” I guess dating a man who wore a skirt forgave the non-Catholic indiscretion.

Norma and Rob

We posed for the obligatory pictures and on our way to the ball, stopped in at the hotel gift shop where Rob’s mother worked. She wanted to see us in our finery and had to ensure her son’s plaid draped properly and fell in soft balloon formation at the back. 

After re-pinning it under the braided epaulette and doing a general inspection, she looked at me. “You’ll have to learn how to do this someday.”

I wondered if he was exaggerating the evening’s formality but the uniform and his mother’s serious attention to detail confirmed this was not like any other party. It was overwhelming for a shy, uncool girl, and every new piece of information made me more nervous about my fairytale evening. The voices in my head whispered that maybe my mother was right and a nice Italian boy was more my type.

Rob sensed my discomfort. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see. We’re sitting with the Whiteheads. They’re one of the most prominent families in town but are so down to earth that you’d never know it.” This did nothing to ease my sense of dread.

When we arrived at the armoury, it was like landing on an old movie set – tables clad in white, guests in uniform or donning their formal best. After filing through the receiving line and collecting our commemorative goblet, we were seated at a long table, across from William and Marg Whitehead, who were older than us and welcomed us with smiles.

William was a jovial man with a breathless lilt in his voice that sounded like perpetual laughter, and he teased Rob without mercy.

“So will you be going home with the same woman you came with this year?” he asked.

I pretended to laugh along and hoped nobody heard the butterflies battling for space in my stomach. Things took a turn though, when later in the evening, William declared, “She’s much better looking than the girl you brought last year.” I was starting to warm up to the Whiteheads.

The ceremonial part of the evening was about to begin and Rob left me to prepare for the entrance of the pipe band. He hadn’t mentioned they’d be preceded by a flaming boar’s head paraded through the hall on a pallet. I’d been to many lavish Italian weddings but an alcohol-soaked pig on fire was in a class of its own.

When the band marched in, I noticed Rob had donned the last part of his uniform, the crowning glory, a tall black feather bonnet with ostrich tails. Later, as we danced to the backdrop of old world tradition and the sway of tartan, I realized I’d fallen in love with the regalia, the Scottish culture, and my date.

I’d worried about our differences – he the cool and carefree one and me, introspective and studious, but that night revealed an alternate and humbling truth. Culture and heritage were at the core of our respective realities, even though I ran away from mine, resentful of the way it set me apart, and he ran toward his, immersing himself in tradition.

It was as if his passion to remain connected to his culture gave me permission to stop resisting a connection to mine. After all, if he could unapologetically wear a skirt and argyle knee-highs, while still managing to be cool and feel comfortable in his skin, then perhaps he was on to something.

As the months passed, I realized that his wasn’t the only culture he connected with. He became more Italian as time went on and my relatives started inviting him to family occasions even while I was away at school.

After trying to reach him all day on Easter, he called me back in the evening and said, “Oh sorry. I was at your uncle’s. I saw them when I was having lunch at your parents’ house and told them I’d never had lamb so they invited me to supper.”

At our wedding, we had bagpipes at the church and my dad’s homemade wine accompanied the traditional pasta dinner. To my mother’s chagrin, I included a long-forgotten Italian custom where Rob and I went to each table and scooped five almond wedding candies (it had to be an odd number) from a silver tray onto the napkin-lined hand of each guest.

One of the older relatives said, “I forgot about this custom. I haven’t seen it since I left Italy.”

We didn’t have a flaming boar’s head, but our Scottish-Italian wedding gave the Artillery Ball a run for the money, and the mix has carried us well for over forty years.

Norma Gardner retired from the corporate world a few years ago and enjoys spending time with family and friends, travelling, and expressing herself through her writing and sourdough recipes. Growing up in Northern Ontario, her family’s antics and her Italian upbringing supply the inspiration for her personal essays. She currently lives in Waterdown, Ontario.

Read more of Norma’s stories at her website here.

Read more short stories, essays, and reviews by your fellow writers here (and scroll down).

See Brian Henry's upcoming weekly writing classes, one-day workshops, and four-day retreats here.

 

Tuesday, March 11, 2025

Still some spots open in “Intensive Creative Writing” classes

“Intensive Creative Writing”

Offered online at 3 different times:

Friday mornings 10:00 – 12:30
Jan 17 –March 7. First readings emailed March 21.
Classes: March 28 – June 20 (or to June 27 if the course fills up. No class April 25, May 16 or June 13). We have a couple spots open in the Friday class.

Wednesday afternoons 12:30 – 3:00
First readings emailed March 19.
Classes: March 26 – June 18 (No class April 23 or June 11). The Wednesday class is full. But email if you want a spot. Sometimes plans change.

Tuesday evenings 6:30 – 9:00
First readings emailed March 25.
Classes: April 1 – June 3 (or to June 10 if the course fills up). We may have one or two spots open in the Tuesday call.

Note: We also have “Picture Book Intensive,” a “(Not so) Extreme Creative Writing,” and “Writing Personal Stories” courses beginning soon. See all upcoming classes here.

Intensive Creative Writing isn't for beginners; it's for people who are working on their own writing projects. You’ll be asked to bring in several pieces of your writing for detailed feedback. All your pieces may be from the same work, such as a novel in progress, or they may be stand-alone pieces, such as short stories or essays. You bring whatever you want to work on. 

Besides critiquing pieces, the instructor will give short lectures addressing the needs of the group, and in addition to learning how to critique your own work and receiving constructive suggestions about your writing, you’ll discover that the greatest benefits come from seeing how your classmates approach and critique a piece of writing and how they write and re-write. This is a challenging course, but extremely rewarding.

Fee: $292.04 + hst = $330

To reserve your spot, email: brianhenry@sympatico.ca

Instructor Brian Henry has been a book editor and creative writing instructor for more than 25 years. He publishes Quick Brown Fox, Canada's most popular blog for writers, teaches creative writing at Ryerson University (now called Toronto Metropolitan University) and has led workshops everywhere from Boston to Buffalo and from Sarnia to Saint John. But his proudest boast is that he’s has helped many of his students get published. 

Read pieces about ~ or inspired by ~ Brian's retreats, courses and workshops here (and scroll down).

See all of Brian’s upcoming weekly writing classes, one-day workshops, and four-day retreats here.


Sunday, March 9, 2025

“Roasting” by Marg Heidebrecht

 

Mira is about to check the beets, to turn them over and see if they need a drizzle of olive oil when her phone rings: moss green, wall-mounted, rotary dial. Since it’s 4:55 p.m., the caller will be Ellen, the niece who’s been saddled with the task of keeping an eye on her.

“Can’t talk, sweetie.” Mira stretches the phone cord closer to the stove with one hand; reaches for an oven mitt with the other.

“I can’t either. Just a reminder that Jake and I are coming over tomorrow.”

“Jake?”

“The guy you met at Christmas.”

“The one who kept popping out to the porch? He smokes.”

“No, Auntie Mira. He’s a real estate agent. Business is 24/7.”

“I thought you broke up?”

“We did, sort of, but he’ll get you a good price for the house.”

“Who said it’s for sale?”

“Mom, me, everybody.”

The response to Mira’s, “Everybody but me,” is a dial tone. Followed by the beeping of the smoke alarm.

“Shit.”

Mira grabs the tray with the oven mitt, but the beets are heavy and the metal thin. She steadies it with her unprotected hand in an attempt to prevent a spill.

“SHIT!”

Both the beets and Mira’s hand are burned. The beets she can bury under compost, but her hand? Mira turns on the cold water, lets it pour between her fingers and over her palm. If Ellen notices the blisters or any swelling, she will report this to her mother, giving them proof that Mira should not be living alone. Plans are being made on her behalf. For her own good. And it pisses her off.

Ellen’s mother, Lisa, was born on the afternoon of Mira’s grade eight graduation. While Mira was delivering a farewell speech on behalf of her peers, her mother was delivering the baby intended to reset a marriage that was hanging on by the threads of obligation and routine.  Even a fourteen-year-old knew that was a lot to expect of an infant. Their dad left, their mother crawled under a quilt, and Mira took over.

A neighbour ran a home daycare; an extra child was no bother as long as no one asked for a receipt. Just as well that five years later Lisa’s elementary school was on the university bus route. Mira scheduled classes that allowed her to pick up her sister by 3:45. When seminars or midterms required her to stay late, she set an alarm to remind their mother to pick Lisa up. And gave the school the neighbour’s phone number. Just in case.

On his way to Mira’s the following morning, Jake stops at another client’s house to check that the stager has transformed the guest room into a home office. No need to remove family photos; they were smashed weeks ago, a consequence of Jake’s 6-step method for building a client base:

Assess if a new house is an attempt to reset a relationship;
flirt with the weakest link when touring the bedroom;
place a “For Sale” sign on the original property;
locate separate properties for the shattered couple;
collect the shared commission from three transactions;
repeat.

A young woman is whirling strawberries, yoghurt and chia seeds into a smoothie and doesn’t hear him come in.

“And you are?” Jake waits until the blender is quiet, though he should’ve waited further away.

“Fuck! Who are you?”

“Jake. I’m selling this place.”

“Ashley. I’m the collateral damage. Getting ready to lose not only my childhood home, but also my family.”

“Yeah, heard about that. Sorry.” Jake looks at the clock on the microwave. “Got some clients coming in soon with another agent. Any chance you can, you know…”

“Disappear?” Ashley provides Jake with the blunt word he’d been reluctant to use.

“Yup.”

“Not unless you’ve got a studio apartment tucked up your sleeve. And a U-Haul in the driveway.”

“That would be no.”

 While Ashley slips on shoes, Jake places a travel lid on the smoothie and the yet-to-solve issue at the back of his mind. They both get into his car.

Mira hates to admit it, but she’s looking forward to the company. That’s the part about aging in place that no one talks about. The tasks are easy; she’s made arrangements for lawn cutting and snow removal; downloaded Uber as well as a grocery delivery app. But in retirement, she increases the volume on the radio so it can be heard in every room. Familiar voices, engaging conversation. Who knew she would miss the office banter, the last-Friday-of-the-month cake for anyone who was celebrating, well, anything?

Her pattern of busy days and quiet evenings has the potential to flip due to the recent glut of widows. They plead with her to join them for concerts, for plays, for the dance recitals of their grandchildren; anything to avoid an unfilled calendar and a plate of leftovers.

She accepts the invitations that appeal to her; after years of not tolerating nonsense from men, she’s not about to start accepting it from women who were accustomed to setting tables exclusively for pairs. As if filling up an ark instead of hosting a dinner party.

“Hi Moira, I mean Merna.” Jake wipes his shoes on Mira’s mat, reassured it contains no images of cats. One less item to remove and an indication of reasonable taste.

“This is Ashley. She’s going to hang out here while I take measurements and a few photos.”

 Mira extends her hand to Ashley who notices the burn.

“Ouch. That looks nasty. How did…” She pauses when Mira moves her head a smidge to the left, then back again. Jake is trying to decide if he can add a heater to the back porch, call it a sunroom. And doesn’t notice.

Ellen arrives while Mira is tipping level scoops of coffee into the French press and Ashley is scraping the last bits of fruit from the bottom of her cup. 

“Hi, sweetie. I wasn’t expecting you’d come too. This is Ashley. She’s with Jake.”

With Jake. Ellen has moved beyond rage, but is not yet ready to shrug. She’s been slow to follow the “Fool me once” adage. Forget twice, it took a series of excuses for Ellen to realize that Jake was unlikely to change.

Ashely stands up, takes a few steps toward her. “He’s selling my parents’ house and I was in the way this morning. So, I’ve been sitting here with your fabulous aunt.”

Fabulous is not among the words Ellen uses to describe her aunt. Old-fashioned, stubborn, set in her ways are more apt; cautious and conservative are included in the missives Lisa sends from whatever mountain retreat on which she’s seeking clarity.

“A masters in mechanical engineering, part of the team that pushed the city to add barriers and not just paint to bike lanes.” In less than an hour, Ashley knows more about her aunt than Ellen has learned in two plus decades of emptying out Christmas stockings and gathering up Easter eggs. Side by side.

“And this one,” Mira points to Ashley. “A degree under her belt and all set to fast-track to be an educational assistant.”

Jake has a client in mind for the house; he texts her a few photos and hopes for a quick off-market closing.

While Ellen might take pleasure in undermining the sale, it’s Mira who creates a plan based on a novel in which a ten-year-old suggested his family invite a homeless stranger to move in. He stopped in front of a knockdown-rebuild on his way home from school. “I know someone who needs a house!” he shouted up to the workers on the roof; that someone being the man who stood outside the beer store. Collecting empties and change. A need, a solution. Is this similar?

Ashley moves into Mira’s spare room and begins her program at the local college. Ellen stops phoning every night; Lisa continues to hop around the globe; Jake removes the photos from his website.

Mira sets two plates for dinner every night for a year. She drizzles olive oil on beets, sets the oven to 425, and places the tray on the bottom rack. She trims perennials in the garden before unfolding a lawn chair to rest. Ashley smells the smoke as soon as she gets home, pulls the pan from the oven, and hears the sizzle when she tosses it in the sink. She searches the house before finding Mira in the yard. Drowsy, dozing.

“Shit, did I burn the beets?”

“You sure did. Same as when we met.”

“You knew?”

Ashley nods. “We have to tell them, you know. Ellen, Lisa.”

 “You call them. I’ll call Jake. He can bring over the documents I need to sign.” Mira rubs the raised scar on her hand. “He’s the only one who won’t say I told you so.”

And she’s right. Sort of. Ashley doesn’t say it either. She doesn’t say anything.

Marg Heidebrecht lives and writes in Dundas, Ontario. Her first book of essays, In the Shade: Friendship, Loss, and the Bruce Trail was shortlisted for the 2020 Hamilton Arts Council Literary Awards. Her essay, “Invasions,” won a creative nonfiction prize in the 2022 Hamilton Arts & Letters contest and is included in her 2024 book, Mosaic through East-Facing Glass: A Collection of Personal Essays

She’s also published several opinion pieces and many letters to the editor in The Globe and Mail and The Hamilton Spectator

Visit Marg at:
https://intheshade2019.blogspot.com/
https://mosaicmarg.blogspot.com/
https://www.instagram.com/intheshade2019/?hl=en

See Brian Henry's upcoming weekly writing classes, one-day workshops, and four-day retreats here.

For more essays and other pieces about books or about reading, writing, and the writing life, see here (and scroll down).